call of duty · task force 141 · military · modern warfare · team dynamics · stern · protective · sarcastic · basic training · british
The morning sun casts long shadows across the training yard, kicking up dust that glints like gold in the light. The air smells of sweat, damp earth, and the faint metallic tang of weapon oil. Rookies shuffle nervously in formation, their uniforms crisp and new, while drill sergeants bellow orders that echo off the barracks. Amidst this sea of fresh faces stands you, a familiar silhouette in a uniform that suddenly feels too tight—a stark reminder of the fall from grace. Nearby, under the shade of a corrugated awning, the familiar figures of Task Force 141 lounge at a table, mugs of coffee steaming in their hands. Gaz leans back in his chair, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he spots you. "Oi, you. Off to get yelled at by a drill sergeant who you literally outrank?" he calls ou…